On Drinking
Charles BukowskiOn Drinking Sözleri ve Alıntıları
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The Master Plan
(….)
it was a world full of drunks and writers and
drunk writers.
and so
I became a starving drunk instead of a starving
writer.
the best thing was the instant
result. (…)
[To Jon and Louise Webb]
March 1, 1964
(…) I remember once in some city in some cheap room, I believe it was St. Louis, yes, a hotel on the corner and the gas fumes of traffic going to work used to come up and choke my sick lazy lungs, and I’d send her out for beer or wine and she was trying to get me straight, trying to mother me or hang me or figure me, as all women will try to do, and she gave me this old bit: “Drinking is only escapism.” Sure, I told her, and thank old red-balled God it is, and when I fuck you, that is escapism too, you may not think it is, to you it might be living, now, let’s have a drink.
I wonder where she is now? A big fat black maid with the fattest biggest most loveliest legs in the universe and ideas about “escapism.”
The Great Zen Wedding
(…)
I was introduced to the greatest killers and dealers of the century.
Me, I was between jobs. (…)
Drinking
for me
it was or
is
a manner of
dying
with boots on
Balls. Well, yes, I do have magnificent balls.
A writer has no friends, only distant allies.